From the moment MacCready walks through the door, Maeve is taken by his green hat. Nate and MacCready share a one-armed hug, careful not to smother the baby, and a chubby little arm reaches up with grasping, half-curled fingers. MacCready lowers Maeve's hand with the utmost care.

Nate grins. "Hey, buddy. Glad you could make it."

"Wasn't going to miss this." A smirk works itself along the well-worn creases around his mouth, but his expression lacks his typical cynical edge. "Congratulations, it's going to be months before you ever sleep a night through again."

Nora is leaning over the crib, cooing at Delilah. Her baby stares up with interest, playing with her own hands seemingly without realizing they are her own fingers. Nora glances over her shoulder, and is struck as always by incongruousness of a scrawny young mercenary beside her broad-shouldered soldier. MacCready even gives her a rare genuine smile.

The baby makes a noise of complaint and squirms when Nora lifts her out of the crib, sucking in her breath for a wail. Nora holds Delilah steady, no matter how hard she wriggles, and rocks the baby in her arms in an attempt to head off her crying before she can begin.

Shifting Maeve in the crook of his arms, Nate steps forward to catch Delilah's attention. "Hey, hey. It's okay. We know you aren't much of a cuddler, so we're just going to show you MacCready nice and quick."

Between Nate's crooning and Nora's rocking, Delilah subsides with an unhappy noise, swiping a tiny fist over her rounded cheeks.

MacCready watches the whole thing with a sniper's keen sight, cocking his head to one side. "Fatherhood suits you."

Nora only has eyes for Nate, whose gaze wavers between his new daughters with a tremulous joy that makes her heart stutter. He's quiet for a few moments, then his chin bobs in the tiniest nod. "It's a huge responsibility."

MacCready blows out a short, noisy breath. "You can say that again. But I guess that just means it's all the more important to get it right."

"Even better, you have two nieces now."

MacCready's features slacken into open-mouthed surprise. Something crosses his face, too fast to catch, and then he snaps to, looking between the twins. He takes a step closer and lightly bops the tip of Maeve's nose with one finger. "Almost as cute as Duncan was when he was your age." But his eyes are soft, and the angles of his narrow face seem less harsh in Vault 81's even lighting. He reaches out to smooth Delilah's tuft of hair. She stops kicking when he looks at her, thrilled with eye contact and a new face. "And you too. You're the independent one, aren't you?"

MacCready then hefts a rolled bundle between his hands, taking a moment to memorize the feel of it one last time. "I used to carry Duncan in this, before he grew out of it. I want you to have it. Here, I'll trade you."

They swap baby for gift, and MacCready's hands are confident and steady when he scoops Maeve out of Nate's arms. "Look at you, already moving your head around. We'll make a sniper out of you."

Maeve gurgles and reaches for the lapel of his duster.

Nate turns the fabric over in his hands until he can make sense of it: a padded travel sling made from soft, dark fabric. Made to be worn over one shoulder, the pouch would sit comfortably over someone's stomach, molding to the contours of their body. Along the wide, reinforced strap is an embroidered scene, starting with a red-trimmed farm house. A field of green crops gives way to a forest where a raddoe and her radfawn graze with their heads lowered.

Running a thumb along the strap, Nate sucks in a breath. "We'll take good care of it, I promise."

"You two get to travel in style, yes you do." MacCready murmurs to the twins in a crooning lilt. When he glances up and sees Nate and Nora watching him, he clears his throat. "I mean: appreciate it. I'm just glad I can start returning favors instead of taking them."

Nate cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glimmering with amusement. "Did you just volunteer for diaper duty? I'm touched, buddy. That's true friendship."

"Nice try, assh— jerk." With a snort, MacCready gives Nate a shove around an armful of baby. He shifts Maeve so she's better-supported against his shoulder.

With one chubby fist, Maeve yanks the brim of his cap down.

When the twins are fifteen days old, Nora and Nate are ready for the journey home to Sanctuary Hills. Delilah and Maeve are wrapped warm and secure in their new travel sling, small enough to both fit in a carrier designed for a larger baby. Shaun darts ahead as soon as the vault lights have stopped flashing and the catwalk is fully extended, calling some impatient response over his shoulder when Nate warns him to be careful.

Nora and Nate share a look.

"Not to worry, sir! I can watch over young Master Shaun," Codsworth says. "One strapping young lad is hardly beyond my babysitting capabilities." With an added gout of jet flame, Codsworth propels himself after Shaun.

Milling in the fenced lot of Vault 81's construction zone is a good dozen Minutemen of all sorts, from broad-shouldered farmer kids to rangy settlers in plaid shirts. All that marks them as comrades are the laser muskets slung over their shoulders or held loose by their sides.

In the center of it all, leaning against a rusted hulk of a Corvega, is one Preston Garvey. He gives them a wry smile from under the brim of his hat. When his eyes alight on the twins, his smile widens to a full grin. "General! I heard of a family that needs our help: we need to get them home safely."

Nate and Preston share an amicable handshake. "Sign me up."

Preston rests a hand on her shoulder, and she reaches up to cover his hand with her own. "Hey there, Nora. Glad you made it through in one piece. These two are your new kids" He motions to the twins in MacCready's travel sling. Preston takes off his hat and he tickles the little hands that reach out with the brim. "Hope you don't mind, but I got something for them."

Inside the package he hands over: two pairs of baby shoes made from the softest brahmin leather. One pair is dyed blue with brown leather strips for laces, while the other pair are brown with blue laces. On a newborn, they would be too loose—but the twins will grow into them.

"Everyone needs a good pair of boots," Preston says with a smile. "I figured if you two wander half as much as your parents do, you're going to wear through a lot of shoe leather."

Nate sticks his fingers into the blue pair and gently walk them along Delilah's belly, and then Maeve's. "You see these? These are for you. One day you're going to learn how to toddle around and my hair is going to turn gray."

Delilah huffs a sigh and reaches for the buttery soft leather.

Shaun reappears with Codsworth hovering over his shoulder. He's already won an oversized hat from a soft-hearted Minuteman. "Hey, look!"

Nora follows his pointed finger as a two-toned bray splits the morning chill. Near one of the prefabs a brahmin stamps, both heads low to graze for spindly tufts of grass between rusted machinery. Unlike the brahmin who wander the roads with traders, this one is bereft of the overfull sacks and late additions hastily strapped in place. Instead there is some kind of box seat, as the brahmin's back is too wide for her to sit astride.

Preston follows her gaze. "Thought it might be easier for you to ride than walk."

Nate offers a hand to Nora, helping her into the seat, then lifts Shaun up in front of Nora. "Hold on tight. Yell if you think you're about to fall."

Nate and Codsworth take position beside the brahmin, while the animal's handler takes the lead rope. All the other Minutemen array themselves around the brahmin, and then Preston calls for them to move out. Dogmeat keeps pace with Nate, ears swiveling and twitching at the noises from their convoy: babbling chatter from the Minutemen, rhythmic hoofbeats of the brahmin, creaking of leather harnesses.

No matter the brahmin's slouching, rhythmic gait, Nora jostles and bounces all the way down the hill until she gets a sense of the animal's rhythm, and spends the next five minutes calming the twins' crying. Shaun, however, has no such trouble; when the novelty of seeing the world from brahmin-height wears off, he watches his baby sisters blink up at the sky and gasp fresh air for the first time in their lives.

The ponderous pace almost as frustrating as the awkward waddle Nora has been forced to endure for the past three months. Nate assumes a patrol stance, scanning the surrounding environment for potential threats. Nora tries to do likewise, tries to keep one eye on the gray woodlands and decrepit buildings, but it all fades into a gray blur with no distinguishing features. All she can do is hunch over the brahmin's back and ignore the itch at the back of her neck. She and Nate both carry loaded guns out of reach of tiny, inquisitive hands. Nora keeps one hand on the travel sling and the other on her thigh near Deliverer's grip.

"General, you might want to tune in to Radio Freedom."

Cocking an eyebrow, Nate fiddles with the dials on his pip-boy. A burst of white noise causes Delilah to wail, and Nora settles her, he tunes the radio with more care.

"—want to give our congratulations to the General and his wife. Best wishes from Tenpines Bluff!" And then another voice, male this time, says, "Over here at County Crossing, we'd like to say hi to the newest members of the General's family! Hi!" And on it goes, various Minutemen and their affiliated settlements from across the Commonwealth offering their messages of joy and hope and celebration.

For several long moments, Nate can do nothing but listen to the well wishes with a peculiar sheen in his eyes. He points down at his pip-boy. Has to clear his throat. "You arranged for this, Preston?"

For all that Preston ducks his head to inspect a loose thread on his glove, the tilt of his hat cannot hide his satisfaction. "Sure did."

It is immensely touching that these strangers—some Nate may have only briefly met when responding to pleas for help, others who know the General by reputation alone—have offered their congratulations. Warmth stirs behind Nora's breastbone, chafing at the edges of weariness that drape over her like a dusty shawl. She coos down at her daughters, "Do you hear that? All these people saying hi to you."

Delilah blinks up at the sunlight warming her face, while Maeve yawns and slips into an easy sleep.

Nora leans down to catch Nate's shoulder, hard and warm under his jacket, and almost falls off the damn brahmin. He breaks patrol stance to cover her hand with his own.

"Is that a super mutant?" Shaun asks, pointing.

Nora's head snaps up to scan their surrounds. Atop the ridge, sorting through the remains of a raider nest—at least, she hopes that's what he's doing—is, indeed, a hulking green figure. One broad, meaty shoulder sports an arm guard with wicked spikes the length of Nora's forearm.

She remembers the day he scavenged that armor—remembers Strong snapping one of the spikes during his brawl with its previous owner.

A warning cry sounds from the right, and the Minutemen scramble to raise their muskets.

"Ready!"

"Hold your fire!" she shouts. "He's friendly!"

Skeptical looks are thrown in her direction, as well as a few questioning mutters, but the Minutemen stand down. Strong—she dearly hopes it is Strong—jerks upright and stares down at the convoy. He closes the distance with a terrifyingly large stride, and soon Nora can pick out other details: the missile launcher he carries one-handed, the bandoleers criss-crossing his chest, the star-burst scar on his pectoral that was a parting gift from one of his former brothers in Trinity Tower.

Shaun sucks in a breath. His curiosity gives way to caution as the super mutant lumbers towards them. "Wow, he is really big."

Nora touches Shaun's back. "It's okay. Strong is friendly. Mostly. Remember it's rude to stare."

"I'm not worried. You and Dad are here."

The Minutemen are vigilant—understandably so—and while Nora can't swing off the brahmin's back to intercept Strong in the no-man's land, she can still stop someone from getting trigger-happy. "Hi, Strong," she calls.

"Human!"

Preston keeps his musket lowered, but his gaze never leaves Strong's hands and the monstrous weapon he hefts as if it were a pistol. A ripple runs through the outer ring of guards as they decide whether to hold their ground or give way.

Nate stands between Strong and the brahmin carrying his family, but he doesn't impede the super mutant's approach. "Strong."

"Human." Strong plants his feet and looks over the brahmin's riders. Shaun tries not to shrink away under the super mutant's severe gaze. Delilah squalls, then, and catches Strong's attention while Shaun tries to calm his sister.

Peering down at the twins, Strong says, "Humans small. Smaller than other humans. Cry about same."

Bolstering Shaun with a hand on his shoulder, Nora answers, "These are our daughters, Strong."

"What is Doo Ters?"

"They're babies, Strong. Young humans."

He blinks once. Twice. "Strong confused. Where small humans come from?"

Nora presses a hand to the soft flesh of her abdomen. "From here. They grew inside me and I carried them."

"Doo Ters come from inside human? No green goo?" An utterly confounded look twists Strong's face, his lips peeling back in a grimace as he makes a frustrated growl. "Strong no understand. Super mutants right size. Not small like humans." With that pronouncement, loud enough that even the Minutemen walking drag can no doubt hear, Strong lopes away to the front of the column.

Preston lets out a gusty breath. "Shall we move on?"

Fortunately, the presence of not only a well-armed escort but also a super mutant dissuades all but the most daring of raiders. For his part, Strong slings his missile launcher across his back and seems to be fiddling with something while he walks. By a most curious coincidence, most of the raider nests in the general vicinity of their travel route have also recently been wiped out.

As the afternoon wears on, Strong turns around and stomps back to the protected heart of the convoy. He shortens his stride to keep pace with the brahmin. "Human share all with Doo Ters," he says, tentative, testing. "Human share body."

Nate's eyebrows creep towards his hairline, but Nora says, "That's right, Strong. And the Minutemen are helping us get back home."

Strong nods sagely, as if the mysteries of the universe have all been explained. "All humans together. One. Human share with Strong. Strong share with human. Share with Doo Ters."

With that, he holds out one massive hand. Resting in his palm are two little helmets made from fire hydrant caps with leather chin straps. Strong is missing one wrist wrap, and there's a noticeable gap on the harness circling his waist where various scavenged metal pieces dangle to form a crude armor.

Nora's gaze flicks from Strong's bare wrist to the helmets before she plucks them out of his hand. The heavy metal is hot in her grip, enough to affirm that yes, this is really happening. She says warmly, "Thank you, Strong. I'm sure these will come in handy. Somehow."

"Small humans need defense."

From behind Strong's elbow, Nate shakes his head, letting out his breath in one long gust.

Sanctuary Hills.

Nora slides, boneless, from the brahmin's broad sloping back only for her legs to crumple when her feet hit the cracked asphalt. Then Nate's hands curl around her elbows to steady her, and he plants a quick kiss on her cheek before lifting Shaun off the brahmin. Maeve squirms in the sling, awoken by the jolt, and Delilah too lets out a surprised cry. Nate murmurs to her to calm her down.

Preston waves off Nora's thanks. "You look like you could use some sleep. The General too."

A strange weight lifts from her shoulders when she follows her family inside, replaced by that bone-deep ease of knowing she is home at last. The living room sports only a few stray leaves blown onto the rug that Dogmeat sniffs. No signs of animal infestation, to Nora's relief.

Codsworth stops in the living room. "Mum, sir, I took the liberty of arranging for a little something to welcome our newest family members. If you'll follow me."

In the last few months, their combined efforts have transformed the nursery from a bitter reminder of pre-war life to a lively sanctuary for the twins. Dusted within an inch of its life, the walls have been repaired and repainted with the only shade blue they'd been able to find in Hardware Town. Any toys that survived the long years are neatly stacked in what used to be the wardrobe. The dresser has resumed its old position guarding one of the windows, and the broken slats in the crib have been repaired. Dogmeat prowls by Nora's leg to inspect the room, pressing his nose into the space under the dresser.

They also knocked down and rebuilt the wall separating the nursery from the laundry. The latter, now more spacious than ever, has been renovated to serve as Shaun's new room. Even though they have been two hundred years defunct, useless without electricity and plumbing, Nora still feels an itch in the back of her mind that they no longer own a washer or a dryer. In their place is a loft bed secured against the far wall, with a small workbench underneath, cluttered by half-dissected circuit boards. Shaun's stray socks already litter the ground, which has to be some kind of record.

Through his own inspection of the nursery, Codsworth reminisces the construction. "—a pity it was impossible to find any appropriate wallpaper, but we'll have to make do, won't we?"

"I don't know, buddy," Nate sighs, giving Nora a quick wink. "I just don't know how we'll survive without clouds and rockets decorating the walls."

Sitting atop the dresser is a tangle of trinkets and wire. Codsworth glides towards the dresser and, handling the contraption with care, presents it to Nora and Nate. "Consider this my welcome home present for the little ones."

Nora recognizes the crib mobile immediately. The tiny red and blue rockets have been repainted with caring precision and the kinks in the wires that hold them aloft have been straightened. Dangling the mobile over Delilah and Maeve, Codsworth spins the mobile and the little rockets glide in their wire-guided orbit, unimpeded by gravity or grinding gears. "It is my hope they'll enjoy it as much as young master Shaun did."

Delilah is transfixed, reaching out with one chubby hand, fingers curling for the sailing spaceships just beyond her reach.

A smile creases the weary lines around Nora's mouth. "They already do, it seems."

"Do you like it?" Shaun asks, tugging on Nate's sleeve. "I helped fix the mobile. It looks good, doesn't it?"

"You two did a great job." Nate waves a hand to the crib. "Codsworth, you should do the honors."

Codsworth's optical shutters widen, then narrow. "At once, sir!" He mounts the mobile to the crib with a few efficient screws, and bats the mobile to send it spinning a second time. He runs one spindly appendage along the crib's blue railing while he watches his handiwork. "It isn't what it used to be," Codsworth admits, and his eye stalks droop an inch. "But it is my hope our family can grow again. Now, shall we get the young mistresses settled in?"